


Just stay?

by Cinder7storm4



Series: How can I trust you? [27]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Gen, Protective Sheriff, Protective Sheriff Stilinski, Secrets, Sheriff Stilinski Feels, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Has Issues, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 04:10:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15502020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinder7storm4/pseuds/Cinder7storm4
Summary: Stiles has all the passwords and the secrets. And he's exhausted.





	Just stay?

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Teen Wolf.

When they pulled into the driveway, John unlocked the cruiser doors and made his way over to Stiles’ door, ready to help support his son if need be, but Stiles stood under his own steam. He walked to the front door, unlocking it, and dropping his school bag by the shoe rack, neatly placing his shoes by the other pairs that were out. He then picked up his bag again taking it upstairs, and tucking it under his desk. 

He was so tired. He wished it was the weekend so that he could sleep. But, even on Friday night there would be no guarantee of rest; the Argent clan was coming. The Council was coming. Deaton was going to figure him out, and he felt so scared and alone. 

He couldn’t protect the pack right now, and he needed help. 

He wanted to ask for help, but not yet. He couldn’t yet. 

And then there was his dad. He felt liking punching a wall, but reigned himself in, property destruction wouldn’t make him feel better. He had broken down in front of his dad again, and he knew, he knew his dad would be watching him closer now. And part of him ached for that type of supervision and the safety that could come from actually indulging in his dad’s willingness to help and comfort him. He wanted to curl up in his dad’s arms and cry. 

He wanted to tell him everything. 

He wanted to tell him how it felt when he made his first batch of pancakes and he didn’t burn them.

He wanted to tell him about the night it had happened, when his dad hadn’t just broken things, but Stiles had ended up with a bruised cheek and back. 

He wanted to tell him he forgave him already.

He wanted to tell him that his mom had known about him. About what he was. 

He wanted to show his dad what he was learning. 

He wanted his dad to tease him about Derek, because in another lifetime in Stiles’ mind his crush was returned, it was obvious, and the pack helped and hindered him in equal measure on his quest to win their alpha’s heart. 

He wanted so much…

He felt the tears pricking at his eyes again. He had no idea how his body still had tears to cry. 

He wanted his dad. He wanted his dad so badly. He wanted to be a child again, just for a moment with less responsibility and less blame heaped upon him. 

John entered Stiles’ room slowly. He had called his son several times, but he had received no response.

Stiles was standing, swaying somewhat in front of his desk as he mumbled to himself, quick fingers running over the spines of the binders Melissa had noticed the other day. Stiles tugged one down, a gold binder that John noted as he got closer had not only his name, but his badge number along the side. Stiles passed it off to him, then headed to the bathroom with a sleep shirt and sweats. 

As his son changed into more comfortable clothes, John sat down at Stiles’ desk to flip through his binder. Spreadsheets, budgets, lists, passwords, phone numbers, the information in the binder went on and on. Stiles re-emerged a few minutes later, quietly righting something in his wardrobe. 

“Why do you have all of this, Mica?” John kept his voice calm, non-judgemental. 

“We’re supposed to take care of each other,” Stiles murmured, as he folded something away in his wardrobe, then closed the door, “I couldn’t help if I didn’t know, so I learned.”

Stiles’ voice was deadened, fatigued. 

“What do you want, Mica?”

“Too much.”

“Name it.”

Stiles smiled at his dad, “The funny thing is you’re completely serious. But, I can’t, dad.”

“What can you do? What can I do?”

“Just, just, stay… please?” The way Stiles phrased it John could hear the resignation in his voice. The assumption that he would once again be left out in the cold. 

Instead of speaking, John went over to sit on the edge of Stiles’ bed, “I’ll stay.”

“At least for today,” murmured Stiles as he sank onto the bed, John folding the covers up over his son.

“For as long as you want me to, Mischief.”

Stiles slept, his father beside him, watching over him. John remembered when Claudia had come home from the hospital with Stiles and he had watched his son sleep, just like this. Every night that he could he watched over the young boy who was his whole world.


End file.
